


Beth and Ethan

by pr_squared



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Pony Play, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:01:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 20,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22763635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_squared/pseuds/pr_squared
Summary: Ethan tries out for the Cady Stanton Suffragette Equestrian team.Time moves on - thought I would delete the training boilerplate and offer a best parts version.
Kudos: 6





	1. Cady Stanton Suffragette Riding Program

**Author's Note:**

> Found a number of tales on my old hard drive.  
> Not exactly BDSM...  
> Improved with further effort and perhaps others will find them of interest

Boys competed eagerly for places in the Cady Stanton Suffragette Riding Program. Freshmen and sophomores, called bugs, wore drab gray shorts and worked under the supervision of the Bug Mother and her assistants. They worked hard, showered after practice, and went home. At the end of their sophomore year, the bugs were assessed for size and conditioning by the Program Director, Bug Mother, and the senior jockeys. Most were rejected out of hand.

Each year perhaps four or five were found large and strong enough to serve as mounts. They attended an intense summer program under the direction of experienced trainers and riders. They return in the fall and find themselves relieved of all academic responsibilities. They began full time ponyboy training. 

Ethan’s mother was deeply interesting in racing and his house was filled with racing souvenirs and paraphernalia. No one was surprised when Ethan tried out for the riding program. He was known as a hard worker and a quick study but a mount needed an adequate size to carry a rider. Many were surprised by his growth spurt at the end of his freshman year and his readiness was obvious at the end of his sophomore year. His mother had chosen her sperm donor wisely. That summer, he learned to bear a pony’s saddle, bit, and bridle. He was worked hard by the experienced equestriennes. He quickly gained strength and stamina to match his great heart.

At first, Ethan ran under Sheridan, a senior girl, who taught him to respect her crop and answer promptly to his reins. He carried her with ease. 

A ponyboy was not allowed to dress or groom himself. Sheridan, a groom, or exercise girl outfitted him with his safety harness, saddle, bridle, and bit. The harness consisted of a collar that circled his brawny neck with two cuffs for his wrists attached by about a foot of chain, keeping him from mischief but allowing his arms the back and forth motion required for forward motion. He lifted his foot and they laced or unlaced his hooved boots. They introduced him to the grooming stand and its indignities, though out of concern for male modesty, only fully fledged team members were allowed to participate. 

Ethan learned to vary his pace, jog, pace, and all-out sprint. His strength and stamina increased further.

Ethan already wore the proud blue and gold Suffragette colors when Beth, a new freshman, first saw him. He stood proudly in his tack and saddle. Sheridan ordered him down and he dropped smartly to his right knee. She showed Beth how to grasp his bridle and mount. Beth swallowed her trepidation. She had never ridden before though but had no lack of moxie. She grasped his bridle in her left hand and placed her petite left boot on his muscular thigh. She swung her right leg over his saddle and Sheridan adjusted the stirrup straps. Beth placed her feet in the stirrups. That first day, he only walked with Beth in the saddle with Sheridan leading him. 

Beth learned quickly too. She learned to help her mount don and doff his tack. She learned to ride at the walk, jog, stride, and finally sprint. She learned to guide her mount in the pole bending, barrel, and keyhole events of the gymkhana. She shifted her weight so that she and her mount ran as one.

She learned to use her crop. Spurs were not allowed in the High School Division. Like many girls, use of the crop did not come naturally. She had no enthusiasm to inflict pain on any creature, even a boy. However, she quickly learned that leniency was no mercy. A correction too mildly administered was too quickly forgotten and need too often and too soon be repeated. 

She learned to bring her mount to an all-out sprint and how to keep his speed under control. She learned exit the starting gate cleanly and to negotiate the press of bodies at the start as jockeys and mounts tangled for inside position. She learned to read her mount to know just what she might ask of him. Over the next few weeks, Beth’s potential as a jockey became obviously apparent. 

Some mounts required rigorous encouragement while others required strong restraint lest they exhaust themselves too soon. Too many novice jockeys fail to read the warning signs and blow their mount too early. If their mount doesn’t collapse under them, they stagger painfully across the finish line lagging behind the rest of the field. Beth had the small stature, physical courage, and will to win of a champion. She also seemed to have a special rapport with her mounts. They carried her eagerly and without reservation.

Ethan ran under the other exercise girls and jockeys, but Beth was his favorite. Though only a freshman, she quickly ranked second among the jockeys.


	2. Beth's Sophomore Year

In her sophomore year, Beth enjoyed breaking in the green mounts who had just graduated the summer program but Ethan, now a senior, was her favorite mount.

She helped him don his hooved boots and tack before a race and led him to the arena.

Ethan studied the course. Six poles stood in a straight line, 21 feet apart. He had run the course a hundred times in practice. The official closed his blinders and all was black. He shook his head in vain. He could not dislodge the damned blinders. He could see nothing but he had done this many times before, he told himself and done it well. 

Beth sensed his anxiety. “Easy boy, easy,” she whispered. “We’ll do this together.” Her hand stroked his neck. She ran her finger lightly behind his ear and comforted him. His trust in her was without limit.

The line judge dropped her flag. 

Beth’s heels jabbed Ethan’s flanks sharply and he exploded into motion. He had done this countless times before. He dashed the first forty yards. Beth let him feel her crop just once. The pressure of Beth’s right knee and her firm pull on his reins guided him to his right. He rounded pole 6. Her weight shifted. The pressure of Beth’s left knee and her firm pull on his reins guided him back to his left. He rounded pole 5. Ethan’s body remembered the rhythm – right and left, every so many strides. The pressure of Beth’s right knee and her firm pull on his reins guided him to his right again. They moved as one. He rounded pole 4. His speed increased with his confidence. The pressure of Beth’s left knee and her firm pull on his reins guided him to his left. He rounded pole 3. The pressure of Beth’s right knee and her firm pull on his reins guided him to his right. He rounded pole 1. The pressure of Beth’s left knee and her firm pull on his reins guided him to his left. He circled around and cleared pole 1 on his left. In and out, he passed between the poles again and finally circled pole 6 on his right. He turned back toward the finish line at an all-out sprint and felt Beth’s crop three times as he dashed to the finish. 

“Whoa.” Beth pulled back on the reins and brought him to a walk. The judges signaled a valid run with no penalties.

Ethan drooled around his bit.

“Good run!” she purred. She turned and looked to the judges for her time. Not bad. Beth grinned and opened his blinders.

He squinted at the painful bright light.

She stroked his cheek and touched the slimy wetness. She wrinkled her nose in distaste and pulled her hand away. 

More often than not after a race, she chased the grooms and exercise girls away and helped him with his gear herself.

Beth removed his saddle and hooved boots. She freed him from his bit and bridle. She was business-like as always but her busy hands felt so good on his tired, sweat-streaked body. He closed his eyes but winced when she touched a wound left by her crop. He felt her body’s warmth and her scent fill his head. 

“Good run, Ethan.” She removed his bit and bridle.

Ethan floated on his endorphin fueled runner’s high. He worked his jaw open and closed. He tested the freedom of his tongue, pressed down under his bit and smiled. Beth stood so close. He sighed at her touch.

Some girls, likely closeted stag-hags, joined the Equestrian team just for the chance to get their hands on a well-built male.

“He did really good today!” Beth’s voice. Ethan opened his eyes and saw Beth’s friend, Amy. Aware of his arousal, he fled to the safety of locker room.


	3. Sectionals

Ethan carried her to a number of victories for the Cady Stanton Suffragettes in dual meets against the neighboring high schools, the Steinham Valkyries, the Freidan Freedom Riders, Wollstonecraft Warriors, Daly Daisies, the Greer Riot Grrls, and the de Beauvoir Fighting Rainbows. She and Ethan would go to Sectionals.

The long drive to the Sectionals had been difficult for Ethan. Mounts and riders traveled to the dual meets in the team bus. Half-naked in his shorts, Ethan rode alone in the close confinement of a pony trailer. Beth rode in the car with her coach and her best friend Amy. Riders and mounts were arriving in scores for the Sectional race the following day and the tumult and noise elicited a palpable unease. 

Beth noted his nervousness and uncharacteristic ill-temper when she led him down the ramp and across the grounds to his stall. Her light conversation did little to relieve Ethan’s anxiety. He settled poorly in the unfamiliar stall. Finally, Beth apologized to Amy and decided to spend the night with her mount rather than in the motel with the other girls. Amy wasn’t pleased in the least but promised to come by first thing in the morning.

Beth showed Ethan where he might attend to necessities and gave him a few moments privacy. She found something for him to eat and urged him to lie down in the straw. She had her jeans and bulky hooded sweatshirt. Ethan had only his flimsy shorts. She covered his large body with a coarse blanket and spread her blankets right next to him. She assured him that she’d be right back and left to see to her own needs, securing the stable door behind her. She did not need him to wander off and get lost.

She returned and slipped into her blankets. The stables were poorly heated and the damp chill drove Beth ever closer to her large, warm mount.

Ethan slept fitfully. He derived real comfort from Beth’s closeness, the quiet sounds of her soft breathing and her familiar fragrance. Once upon a time, such an arrangement would never have been allowed. Most would have thought the petite young woman at risk for virtue and even life from the hormonally crazed adolescent male. Those times were safely in the past. Quite simply, Beth was his jockey and Ethan was her mount. 

Ethan’s skin felt deliciously warm to Beth’s cold hands. Sleeping soundly, he seemed totally unaware of her frigid touch. She snuggled even closer and her nearness seemed to quiet him. She rubbed his belly, which he loved. She ran her hands gently over the strong muscles of his bare back and flanks. He did not stir when she lightly kneaded his powerfully built buttocks. Her body pressed against his through the thick denim of her jeans and the thinner cotton of her blouse. Finally, her cold hands rested between his brawny thighs. His warmth was a luxury against the night time chill. 

Inadvertently, Beth brushed his bulging ball sac through his thin shorts. Ethan was intact, while most of the older certified mounts had been gelded. Intact males were notoriously distractible, lazy, and prone to violence. However, elite riders usually preferred intact males because their greater competitive spirit and special bond that might be forged. Ethan was too young for such considerations.

Beth felt Ethan relax at her touch. His body’s warmth cut the chill and soon Beth fell asleep also.

Beth awoke first in the dim light before dawn. Ethan still slept soundly. Nestled between his muscular thighs, her hands were snug and warm. A mischievous notion seized her, she slid her hand carefully up the inside of his thigh. The coarse hairs tickled her palm. She slipped her hand inside the cuff of Ethan’s trunks and stroked his muscular buttock. She imagined how he’d look with her brand. Some day she would own a string of boys, she dreamed. She grinned wickedly and reached for his sex. As she guessed, her Ethan boasted his morning erection. She encircled his girth between her thumb and index finger. He sighed. Beth froze motionless, then carefully removed her hand. He did not wake.

Just then Amy and Madison arrived with piping hot coffee and a donut for Ethan. “You smell like ‘boy,’” said Amy, wrinkling her nose to emphasize her distaste.

Beth sniffed her clothes. “I do but I’d have frozen my bottom, if not for my Ethan,” Beth explained. “I’ll go back to our room and shower and change.” She would change her blouse and denims for her colorful racing silks.

Amy had a high regard for Beth’s bottom. However, sometimes she wondered whether Beth loved her Ethan more than she loved her Amy – but only sometimes.

“I’ll see to Ethan,” offered Madison. Someone had to see to Ethan’s breakfast. A leisurely workout would ready him for the race that afternoon. They would meet the Coach McCullough at 10.

Amy grinned. “I’ll go back to the room and shower with you.”


	4. Victory

The field was unusually large at the Sectional meet. The ponies and their jockeys lined up shoulder to shoulder in the starting gate, eager for the final race to begin. Beth and Ethan, in Suffragette blue and gold, had done well in qualifying barrel race and keyhole race. They stood third of ten from the inside rail. The start was delayed until the track could be cleared. Beth and the other jockeys worked frantically to calm their anxious mounts. The doors opened and Ethan surged forward, leaving the gate cleanly. Beth brought down her stick sharply to send him forward. A whip cracked and the mount to her right hand panicked and jumped inside. Ethan swerved and shot inside to avoid him only to collide with the mount to his left. Mounts and jockeys went down in a jumble of arms and legs. Somehow, Ethan avoided the pile-up and kept his feet. It wasn’t pretty but he won!

Ethan was still in high spirits from his hard-won victory. The race had been grueling. Breath came only raggedly and with effort. His muscular chest still heaved from exertion. His powerfully built legs still wobbled and trembled unsteady. Utter glee and slowly resolving oxygen debt contributed to his giddiness.

Beth was exhilarated too. She simply loved to win. She wore her best leather boots, the brightly colored blue and gold silk top and white jodhpurs of the Cady Stanton Suffragettes. Spurs were not allowed in the high school division. Ethan wore his trunks, shoes, socks, his saddle, and tack. In high school meets, the mounts always wore shorts. After high school, males always ran naked except for their gear.

Beth knelt at Ethan’s feet to help remove his hooved boots. Her Ethan was quite able to take off his own shoes but this was something that a jockey always did for her mount. Beth had always dreamed of being a jockey. She sat in Ms. Collins class and cringed at her teacher’s vivid retelling of the horrors of the Patriarchal Age. She gave thanks that she lived in a more enlightened time. Some day she would own her own string of ponyboys. She half listened to Ms. Collins’ frightening tales, half-glanced at the frightening images she presented, and filled her notebook with various designs for her personal brand or mark.

Ethan bent at the waist, rested his large hands on his muscular thighs, and caught his breath. He felt his strong thigh muscles quiver with fatigue. He looked down at Beth, kneeling at his feet as she wrestled with his stubborn laces, and tried to catch a whiff of the faint fragrance of her perfume. She was small, but she wielded the damned whip with great energy and unwanted strength. The lacerations on his body showed her handiwork. She loved to win every bit as much as he. Perspiration had darkened the bright gold and blue of her racing silks. She usually smelled of soap and understated perfume. Now a more primal scent admixed with the others and yielded an even more alluring fragrance. He thought just perhaps to bend a bit further and nuzzle her sweat-damped hair.

Just then Beth looked up to see him staring down at her. Ethan dwarfed the smaller woman. “Ethan, lift your foot, she said, brooking no nonsense.

Ethan stopped and did as he was told. Beth slipped off one shoe and stocking and then the other shoe and sock in turn. She inspected his feet for any injuries. An army marches on its belly but a ponyboy runs on his feet.

Her task completed; Beth stood. Her usually deft fingers fumbled with his belts and straps as she freed him from his saddle. His copious perspiration had made everything slippery.

“Mount,” she said and Ethan dropped to his right knee in the ‘mount’ position. To mount, Beth would grab hold of his bridle with her left hand, step up onto his broad thigh with her left foot and swing her right leg over his saddle. Today, Beth reached forward to remove his bit and bridle.

Kneeling, Ethan’s eyes were at the level of her chest. He studied her blouse and cursed the pearl white buttons that held it closed. He saw the outline of her pert breasts beneath her silks. Perspiration had made the material translucent. He might just lean a bit forward and press his cheek against her inviting chest. He looked to his grooming. 

“Great race, Beth!” exclaimed Amy as she pushed into the stall. She startled Ethan and he straightened quickly with Beth never learning of his intent. Amy was tall. Not just taller than her petite friend but tall and long legged. She ran on the Cady Stanton track team. “You did the Suffragettes proud. For a moment, I was certain that that cock sucking Steinham Valkyrie bitch would beat us,” Amy confessed. Steinham and Cady-Stanton High Schools were long-time bitter rivals.

“Great mounts make great riders. I never doubted Ethan would win,” Beth said.

“Great race, Ethan – Beth - really,” gushed Madison, one step behind. “Give the poor bugger some credit too. He did all the work.”

“Not quite all the work,” insisted Beth. “My whip arm will be stiff and sore in the morning. I may even have a blister from gripping it too tightly.” She studied her hand.

“Poor baby. I’ll give you some ibuprofen. Just look at poor Ethan.” Amy pointed to the red streaks that Beth’s crop had inflicted on his flanks and thighs as she brought him in a winner. Several of the deeper gashes still shed dribbles of blood 

“He’s really magnificent, Beth,” Madison said, looking admiringly at Ethan.

Madison helped Beth with Ethan’s tack and Ethan thoroughly basked in all this feminine attention.

“Ethan, you are quite a fellow!” Beth admitted. “I’ve been trying to get Amy to ride you,” she explained, “forever! Every time, she chickens out. You’re really a great mount. Let me show you off for my friends, please?” She looked directly at Ethan.

“No,” Ethan retorted. “I know what you want. Never!” 

“Ethan,” she smiled. She felt a bit ridiculous arguing with her mount, even if he was her Ethan. “Take off those silly shorts Let them see you – all of you. You’ve got a great body and no reason in the world to be ashamed. Like Madison said, you’re really magnificent.” 

Ethan looked at Beth. He saw no sign she would back down. Then he appealed wordlessly to Amy and Madison. He knew them well but they weren’t team members. Their faces betrayed their amusement at his increasing agitation.

“You know, Ethan, you haven’t got anything we haven’t seen before,” Madison explained matter of fact, “and we’ve probably seen better.” Ponies ran naked except for their gear in the senior division. One could see riders and their mounts in the park all the time. One could see races on the flat screen in super high definition. 

Ethan thought hard for a long moment. Neither Amy nor Madison had seen him naked. “Tell you what. I’ll take off my clothes for you, Beth, but only if you take off your clothes for me.” Ethan smiled broadly at his clever stroke. He looked to Amy and Madison to sanction his clever victory.

Amy and Madison were shocked by his temerity. Now Beth’s face revealed her shock. Temporarily stymied, she thought very carefully before she spoke.

Ethan felt pretty good about himself. He had strong feelings for Beth. He carried her on his back endlessly in training as well as in his races. Her weight was nothing to him but the fragrance of her perfume filled his head and dreams - both sleeping and awake. Her sweet breath warmed his ear as she urged him forward. When she hunched forward her soft breasts touched his head. He wondered if he might turn his head and press his cheek her soft breast. For the races, she wore her white jodhpurs. In practice, she wore only brief shorts. Her smooth trim thighs rested skin to skin on the base of his brawny neck. The secret place between her thighs pressed firmly up against his heavy neck. When he was secured on the grooming stand, her body often pressed inadvertently against his. He studied her face and watched her lips press together while she formulated her answer to his challenge. He allowed himself to wonder how those lips might feel pressed against his.

“Well Ethan, okay,” Beth said, surprising even Ethan and leaving her friends utterly speechless. “But gentlemen first.” “Gentlemen” was an odd expression one no longer heard too often. Ethan’s studdly behavior was becoming clearly annoying.

Ethan crowed his victory. A triumphant grin stretched his face. He turned his back to the women and stripped off his briefs.

He had a great ass. Beth imagined her latest brand design on his muscular left buttock. She wondered if she would have the nerve to brand him herself. Branding required some skill but a woman forged a special bond with the mounts she branded with her own hand. “The jockstrap too,” Beth reminded him, “remember, you agreed, naked.”

He turned away, hesitated, and then complied awkwardly. You and me both, he thought, rejoicing. He waited a long moment before turning to face Beth, Amy, and Madison.

Beth stepped in beside him and slipped an arm around his waist. She was truly fond of the creature. Inadvertently, she touched a tender laceration left by her whip. Ethan pulled a little bit away.

“Sorry,” she said chagrinned. “Say, isn’t my Ethan magnificent, just as I said!”

Once upon a time, a male might intimidate a score of healthy adult women simply by threatening to expose his male paraphernalia. That time was safely in the past. However, his “otherness” was striking – the mere size and bulk of him, his heavily muscled male angularity compared to the graceful rounded feminine curves. His exuberant hirsutism betrayed his kinship with the bestial. In a well run stable, he would be depilated for reasons of hygiene and aesthetics. His ample male parts, once symbols of male power and authority, were now incontrovertible proof of his innate inferiority.

Ethan’s muscular body was every bit as impressive as the older ponyboys who raced naked at the track. Scientific nutrition and long hours of strenuous training had made the most of the outstanding physique he had brought to the program.

Ethan put his large hands on his hips. “Okay Beth, take off your clothes now. Now I get to see you naked.” He looked to Amy and Madison for support. They had heard Beth promise, after all, and a promise is a promise.

Amy and Madison looked at their friend, Beth, their sincere unease evident in their faces. 

Beth showed no hint of distress. Beth took Ethan’s face in her petite hands and pulled him toward her. Ethan closed his eyes and allowed himself to be guided. She deftly avoided his questing lips and kissed him wetly on his broad forehead. She was honestly fond of the big guy. Boldly, she took his sex very gently in her hand. With both Amy and Madison there, she had no doubt she could control him. Ethan was a silly name for a ponyboy. Someday, he would have a real ponyboy name. “Can Amy touch you too?” she whispered.

Her warm hand on his sex made rational thought difficult for Ethan and coherent speech impossible. Her warm hand just felt so good. He wanted to say, no, but he just feared that Beth would take her hand away.

“I really don’t want to,” Amy objected. Ethan breathed a sigh of relief.

I do!” volunteered Madison cheerfully. Madison gave him little time to refuse. 

Ethan started to protest but the wicked kneading movements of Beth’s hand on his sex made coherent speech difficult. 

Madison cupped his ball sac gently. She certainly didn’t want to hurt him. The coarse hairs tickled her palm.

His body responded. 

“I think he loves me,” Madison quipped and looked to her friends. “Amy, you should cop a feel. He feels really weird.” Ethan’s ball sac bulged ripely. Most ponies in a stable were gelded. Intact males tended to lazy, distractible and prone to violence. However, elite riders generally favored intact males because of their greater spirit.

“I hope you guys wash your hands before you touch me!” Amy exclaimed. She hoped her friends weren’t secret stag hags. The mere notion of a large hairy male forcing himself into her most private places, nauseated her. 

Without volition, Ethan’s body responded to all the feminine attention. His penis grew to fill Beth’s fist. His mother had had him circumcised. A pony would lose his foreskin promptly in a properly managed stable. Lacking enthusiasm for a messy climax, Beth dropped him and put her hands on her hips.

Ethan overcame his burning humiliation with some effort. His penis poked out aggressively. “Okay Beth, I did what you wanted. Now it’s time for you to get naked. I want to see your little titties and cute little ass.”

“Okay Ethan, you’ll see me naked, I guess,” Beth said with apparent resignation.

Amy and Madison gasped aloud. Would their friend really humiliate herself?

“Close your eyes.” Ethan enthusiastically complied. “And turn around.”

“You can see me naked, in your dreams!” Beth slapped his butt sharply for his unbelievably egotistical presumption. She then led Amy and Madison from the stall quickly, closing the door behind them.

“Can I open my eyes now?” Ethan asked plaintively, but no one answered.


	5. Moving on

Ethan stood anxiously beside his mother while the older doctor went over her clipboard with the younger doctor. The younger doctor or whatever she was wasn’t more than a year or two older than Ethan’s eighteen years. Ethan was a strapping young male. At two meters tall, he was a head taller than any of the women in the room and topping a hundred kilos likely weighed more than any two of them together. His large, muscular frame didn’t carry an ounce of fat. Though he may have towered physically over everyone else in the room, he certainly didn’t feel very dominant over anyone. He wanted this so desperately and for so long. Now he was so close.

His mother looked at him and smiled warmly. She had waited so long for this day and wasn’t very good at hiding her apprehension. She had chosen her sperm donor carefully. She had carried his pregnancy, under her heart as they say, and given birth to this marvelous specimen of manhood. Her fingers were crossed tightly for luck. Involuntarily, her hands tapped fretfully on her thighs. This was her son’s big chance. This was her big chance. She had always been a fan. She had envied those tiny jockeys so. Her home was arrayed with racing paraphernalia. She had encouraged Ethan for as long as he could walk. Maybe she had encouraged him before he could walk when she got him his first Pony haircut. Most who applied never even got this far. Whether chosen or not, she was so proud of him.

The air was cold on Ethan’s bare skin. Some of the tests had been rather strenuous, even for a healthy young man in Ethan’s excellent condition. Standing in a room now with fully dressed women, he felt odd wearing only his skivvies. Once upon a time, Ethan had learned, an ordinary-sized man might intimidate a dozen adult women simply by threatening to expose his male parts. Ethan thought himself very unlikely to overawe anyone, despite his unique size and strength. He wanted so desperately to be chosen.

“Great,” said Dr. Ponsonby, the older doctor, tapping her knuckles solidly on the clipboard. “The wonderful letter from your friend Beth is very compelling.”

Beth had been Ethan’s jockey for his two years in the saddle division of the racing program at Cady-Stanton High.

“Ethan, please come with me,” the doctor continued. She gestured for Ms. Everett, Ethan’s mother, to remain behind. 

Ethan entered the small examination room. The only furniture was a bare examining table. The neatly framed picture on the wall showed the photo finish of famous Arlington Stakes, saddle division, from two years past. Ethan had watched the race on TV himself. No one remembered the names of the jockeys, but everyone knew that Hailey’s Comet had beaten Wind Song by a nose. Hailey’s Comet represented Rothesay Stables and Wind Song represented Highgate Stables, whose rivalry went back for decades. Everyone said that Hailey’s Comet was getting old. Wind Song won the following year after Comet retired. Ethan himself was fully large enough for the saddle division and still growing. He would be proud to wear the colors of either stable.

“Ethan?” said Dr. Ponsonby, when the younger doctor entered and closed the door. “You’ll have to remove your shorts.”

Ethan’s face twisted into a wry grin. He blushed and wearing only his skivvies, the blush colored his entire body. 

“Ethan, don’t be embarrassed,” said the younger doctor. “I’ve worked on a ranch. On a ranch, none of the ponies wear any clothes. All the ponies who run at Arlington, run naked except for their tack. Their strong bodies are decorated in stable colors.”

She was right, of course. In his high school meets, Ethan had always worn shorts. Now things would be different. He had run naked under Beth in in the park. He had seen her naked too, he remembered. If he were somehow accepted at the Bar None Ranch, he would receive the best pony training in the world but he would have to follow the rules. If he did well, he might be accepted at one of the stables after a couple of years, maybe even Highgate or Rothesay Stables. He peeled off his shorts and stepped out of them awkwardly. This was getting easier and easier.

“Turn and face me,” the young doctor said.

Ethan turned to face her and saw the nametag on her white coat, “Hannah Olivera, assistant trainer,” not “doctor.” She had never said that she was a doctor. 

She approached him then stopped abruptly as if intimidated by his size in the small examining room. She smiled wryly at her edginess. “Okay, big fellow, put your hands on your head – and just keep them there.” After a moment’s hesitation, she quickly regained her customary authority.

Ethan complied. Hannah pulled on an examination glove and Ethan knew what was coming. He tried staring at the ceiling and then tried to calm his growing anxiety by closing his eyes. He couldn’t see Hannah, but her perfume filled his head. Her thick, soft dark hair brushed across his belly, just before she took his penis in her hand. Ethan needed all of his willpower not to pull away.

“Not clipped and not a problem,” Hannah noted. Ponies were always circumcised in the stable in order to facilitate good hygiene. She cupped his scrotum gently, then examined each testicle. “Cough”

Ethan coughed.

“Again. Okay, no hernia. Now turn around and put your hands on the table.”

Ethan complied. He heard what sounded like a rude noise. Hannah placed the three-quarters empty tube of lubricant on the table. Next, Ethan felt her warm gloved hand on his bare ass. He turned a bit and saw the darker complexion of her hand against his paler skin. He looked away and then he felt something very cold.

“Just try to relax,” Hannah said.

How could a guy relax, when he had a chance to be accepted at the Bar None Ranch and his whole future lay gleaming before him.


	6. A Ride in the Park

Beth had told Ethan to meet her at the stables on Sunday, one last time. High school was over now for Ethan and his promising future lay glistening before him but they had had so many pleasant times and shared so many treasured memories. They had been a championship pair on the Cady-Stanton Suffragettes Equestrian team. Beth was Ethan’s favorite jockey and Ethan was Beth’s favorite mount. High school was over for Ethan at least and Beth looked forward to one last ride.

Ethan went down to the stables, changed into his shorts, and waited. In high school, mounts wore running shorts, brightly displaying in school colors. After high school, mounts ran naked except for their gear. Custom required Ethan to wait and let his jockey put on his harness, saddle, bridle, and bit that put his greater strength fully under the control of his smaller rider.

Beth arrived no more than a few minutes late. She wore battered leather boots, a casual tee shirt and worn jeans rather than her brilliantly colored racing silks and white jodhpurs. After sharing a hug, Beth donned her leather gloves. Ethan knelt and she helped him with his harness, saddle, bridle, and bit. The harness securely restrained his strong arms. Beth pulled down on his bridle and Ethan leaned forward. She placed a hand on either side of his head and kissed him fondly on the forehead. She adjusted the blinders that narrowed his field of vision and spared him distractions. Then she helped him don his hooved boots and lace them up.

Playfully, she pushed him away and inspected her mount one last time. Reminiscences of past races, proud victories and hard-fought defeats, flashed through her mind. “One more thing,” she said aloud.

Her words puzzled Ethan.

Beth put her hands on his hips and deftly unfastened the buttons on his shorts. A sharp jerk of her hand left him stark naked.

Surprised, he pulled away. He tried to protest but the bit prevented intelligible speech.

Beth yanked sharply on his bridle and quickly quenching any insubordination. “Ethan, come on! You’re not in high school anymore.”

“He shook his head vigorously.

“Real mounts don’t wear clothes. You just looked so silly. You’re magnificent. You have no reason to be embarrassed. If I were as beautiful as you, I wouldn’t ever wear clothes.” She tucked the shorts securely in her pocket. Her collection at home included the shorts of all the ponies she had defeated. 

Ethan was confused. Beth had seen him naked already. He grimaced to remember how she had tricked him after their last race to the amusement of her friends. However, he had found it utterly impossible to stay angry at her. She meant so much to him. If he thought about it, Ethan had to agree that she was correct. After high school mounts were naked. Older ponyboys ran naked in the park and on the flatscreen. He had seen them himself. However, never before had he been placed on public display. Once upon a time, a lone male might intimidate a dozen adult women simply by threatening to expose his male paraphernalia. That time was safely in the past. 

Suddenly, he realized that his Beth must ride other mounts too. If they were older, they would be naked too. She, at least, would be his first.

“Mount!” Beth commanded and by reflex Ethan dropped to his right knee. Beth grabbed his bridle and stepped up with her left foot on his brawny left thigh. She swung her right leg over saddle and settled her feet solidly in the stirrups.

“Up!” she ordered. Some day she would own a string of mounts and she hoped they would be as sound and well trained as her Ethan. 

Ethan felt her spurs jab sharply into his flanks. He had never felt anything like it. In high school riders did not wear spurs but Ethan recalled that he was no longer a high school mount. Two more years of high school remained for Beth. Ethan rose smartly and let Beth guide him forward into the yard. On a weekend, the yard was busier than usual with mounts and riders, but the pair attracted little attention.

The stable lay on the edge of a vast park. Beth brought her mount to a jog and then to an easy stride. Ethan ran gladly and carried her effortlessly. He had had long practice and he lived for these precious moments with her. He ran and took pleasure in Beth’s closeness. He relished the feel of her weight in his saddle. The fragrance of her hair filled his head, even if her scent was only shampoo and cleanliness. The secret place between her thighs pressed up against his neck, at times more urgently than might be ordinarily needful. He ran and felt her warm breath on his ear as she whispered fond encouragements. He let all conscious thoughts recede. He heard his feet strike the ground and the sound of his breathing and of hers. He ran and lost himself in the seductive rhythm of his stride.

Abruptly, a pull on his reins broke his reverie. He came to a quick stop and looked about. He saw another rider, Cicely Westfall, on her sturdy mount. Cicely sat astride his brawny back. Her graceful legs, ending his booted feet, rested in the stirrups. Her sharp, shining spurs impressed Ethan mightily. 

Beth greeted her cheerfully. Ethan listened.

“I call him Gambler,” Ethan heard Cicely say. His eye was drawn to the other male. Although the bridle distorted his facial features, Ethan recognized the mount. Greg Fergusson. Greg had been a senior and a leading mount on the Cady-Stanton team three years before when Ethan was a freshman and an eager beginner. Ethan doubted that Greg would remember him. Ethan had grown much over the four years and Greg looked even more muscular than he had as a senior. Greg was now a certified mount.

Ethan noticed several further alterations. First, Greg had been branded. Second, the metal ring that pierced the end of his circumcised sex was linked to a second ring set below his navel, lifting his manhood from his groin and displaying his scrotum beneath. His sac hung flat and empty. He had been castrated. Intact males were notoriously lazy, moody, and ill-tempered. All knew their penchant for insane jealousy and their alacrity for violence. Most equestriennes chose to geld their mounts to facilitate easier handling and maintain peace in the stable. 

Ethan looked him in the eye and nodded a greeting. He remembered his place. Ponies didn’t speak. Ethan’s bit prevented coherent speech. As a certified mount, Greg’s vocal cords had been altered to prevent speech. 

The women chatted eagerly. As she talked, Beth stroked Ethan’s cheek with the back of her hand. Ethan relished her touch. He thought to ease his head back and see if he might press his head against her soft breasts. At his first touch, Beth pushed his head forward sharply and continued her conversation without comment or hesitation. Foiled in his plan, Ethan bent his head down. He waited impatiently, eager to be back on the trail and eager for Beth’s undivided attention

Greg stared back at Beth and Ethan with no hint of recognition. He looked as impatient to be back on the trail as Ethan.


	7. Something Changed

Ethan was grateful for the jab of Beth’s spurs as she brought him back into motion. He took several steps, began to jog, and quickly returned an easy stride. They came to a long flat section of the trail. Beth saw no other riders, hikers, or bicycles that might get in their way. She applied her spurs sharply and urged him forward urgently. Ethan exploded into a sprint. His speed exhilarated both Beth and him. His long strides devoured the ground and they seemed literally to fly. Both were breathless when she brought him back to a walk.

Beth spotted Amy and Madison, up ahead at the picnic site beside the lake. She brought Ethan back to a run, eager to meet her friends.

“Hey!” Amy shouted when they were close enough. “Took you long enough.”

Beth brought Ethan to a halt. “We made great time and I’ve had a wonderful ride,” Beth answered. “You should ride him yourself.” It was a perennial challenge. Tall long-legged Amy would have made an awkward rider, even if she had had the inclination.

Ethan stood and caught his breath. Perspiration cascaded from his body and pooled on the ground at his feet. He felt their eyes upon him and suddenly he felt very naked. 

“Hey, Beth. Hey Ethan,” Madison called cheerfully. She looked hot in her bikini. Madison grabbed his bridle. “Ethan, you’re magnificent,” Madison gushed and stroked his neck. She had been party to his humiliation in the stable but Ethan found it impossible to hold a grudge in the face of her warmth. She stroked his flank and slapped his buttock playfully to show her confidence and lack of fear.

Amy looked pretty hot too in her one piece. Beth leaned down from her saddle and kissed her deeply in a reversal of their usual position. Usually, taller Amy towered over shorter Beth. “I just worry Beth’s too fond of the smelly creature,” Amy warned, half in jest. Sometimes, she felt a rivalry with the male for Beth’s time and attention. More often, her jealousy made her feel ridiculous. 

No one seemed the least excited about his nudity except for him. Suddenly, it occurred to him. He was a pony. An animal might be unclothed but no one thinks of him as naked. 

“Mount!” Beth called and Ethan dropped to his right knee. Beth dismounted deftly. “I’m thirsty.” she announced. Amy handed her a water bottle.

Ethan was thirsty too. He eyed the bottle keenly. His bit prevented coherent speech.

“I’ll get Ethan some water, Madison offered. Ethan’s hands were restrained by harness and Madison held the bottle while Ethan, kneeling, drank it down greedily in three long swallows. Water spilled over his face and chest. 

“Let me give him some water too.” 

Ethan looked to see who had called. 

Laura pulled herself out of the water. The water streamed from her very female body. The cold water had made her nipples erect. Ethan saw the dense bush that crowned her sex. She was stark naked and made no effort to hide her nakedness. 

For a brief second Ethan felt embarrassed for her. Then he realized that he was a pony. No one should feel ashamed for being unclothed in front of an animal. 

Laura approached him tentatively and she stopped, a bit intimidated by his obvious size and strength. Unlike Beth, she had never ridden. On one level, she knew that she had little to fear. The male was trained. He knelt and was otherwise restrained by his tack. On another level she remembered her lessons about the male alacrity for violence and the horrors of the Patriarchal Age. 

“Hi, boy,” Laura cooed. She held out a water bottle at arm’s length and Ethan had to stretch to wrap his lips around it and gulp down the refreshing water. Laura seized the opportunity and inspected the large male kneeling before her. She could smell the musky odor of his perspiration. She didn’t want to stare but she couldn’t completely suppress her curiosity about the curious male paraphernalia hanging between his brawny thighs. 

Ethan knelt between Madison and Laura. The close proximity of so much female flesh left him unsettled. 

Beth kissed Amy again. “That water looks so inviting – race you out to the raft!” Beth shed her clothes with unwonted speed, ran to the end of the pier, and dived stark naked into the lake. Amy followed, seconds behind her.

Impatiently, Madison urged Ethan to his feet and secured his reins to the hitching post. Laughing, she and Laura ran to join Amy and Beth.

Ethan watched them swim out to the raft about 50 yards from the end of the pier. He pulled once against his reins and found them secure. Suddenly, he had to pee. His harness restrained his hand and he could not free himself or direct his stream. He turned away as best he was able with the little slack his reins allowed and peed. The urine pooled at his feet. He looked up and saw the women cavorting in the lake.


	8. Wollenstonecroft College

The stables at Wollstonecraft College impressed Beth greatly. Gifts from wealthy alumnae had kept the coffers full and anyone could see that the money had been well spent.

Beth’s resume greatly impressed Ms. Sally Jones, the riding mistress. Sally seemed to know everything about ponies

Her profuse praise made Beth blush. “I’ve always had an outstanding mount, Ms. Jones. They say that it’s ninety-five percent pony and five percent jockey.”

“Give yourself a bit of credit. Your ponies were lucky to have you.”

Beth thought about Ethan. She wondered how he had done at the Bar None Ranch. He had been growing still and adding muscle. He had yet to reach his prime.

“We do more trail riding than racing or gymkhana here but I really could use someone with your experience,” she added on a more serious note. “All our riders have their own mounts. Half of them haven’t the foggiest idea how to care for them. I’ve hired a couple of girls with some experience to help as grooms. Some girls volunteer to help for riding privileges. Sometimes it seems the only way a woman from a middleclass family can get a quality mount is give birth to him herself! Hey, I can hook you up through the Wollstonecraft work-study program. We’ll call you an assistant trainer.” She looked again at Beth’s long list of trophies and ribbons. “Say,” she smiled; “we’ll call you an associate trainer. Pay’s the same, unfortunately.”

Beth met Caitlin O’Connor, the chief trainer and took an immediate liking to the woman. The respect was mutual. Laurie Norwich and Alyssa Westfold were the student wranglers. The stable housed about 30 mounts in individual stalls. Some girls came to ride before class. Most came after school. Laurie oversaw the stables in the morning with the student owners and volunteers. Three mounts, geldings, might be brought to the feeding trough together. The few intact males were fed one at a time. After their rides, they fed and groomed their animals and bed them down for the night. Alyssa oversaw the stables in the evening with the student owners and volunteers. Beth worked on weekends. 

The mounts themselves got along well enough as most of them had been gelded. Intact males were usually fed individually to avoid conflict. Intact males were notorious for their impulsivity, laziness and alacrity for violence. Intact males were jealous and quarrelsome as they competed frantically and even violently for their rider’s attention and favor. Elite riders found intact males more spirited and treasured the special bond a woman might forge with her mount. Many chose to put up with their drawbacks. For the rest, a gelding served adequately with less trouble.

Stalled individually in clean stalls, the mount appeared well cared groomed, if not a bit under-worked or over-fed. Beth would see that each pony had exercise every day. The school kept only a beaten-up gelding named Lucky, and a stallion named Mississippi Gambler or Gambler for short. The rest of the mounts belonged to the individual students.

Beginning riders were allowed to ride with reins but no spurs or crop. Intermediate rides added stubby blunted spurs. Advanced riders added sharper spurs and a leather riding crop. As an elite rider, Beth wore roweled spurs that jingled as walked. The merest touch on her mount’s flanks communicated her urgent demand for speed with no ambiguity. She loved the way they looked on her heels and felt almost naked without them. She just wished that she might afford better boots.

In general, Beth liked the other girls. None had had the benefit of as solid a high school program as she. They were good-hearted bunch and eager to learn. They didn’t hold their large difference in wealth against her. 

Courtney de Winter was a singular exception. She considered herself an elite rider and she certainly looked the part in her expensive designer outfits. Her pony, a gelding called Noblesse Oblige, was a well-constructed and loyal beast. Her gear was the best. She had had much quality instruction. She lacked only the special empathy required of a great rider and any perception of her deficiency. An elite rider knows her mount completely. She takes him to his limit and no further. In his passionate yearning to please, a pony will exert himself beyond the abilities of his body to sustain him. He will rip sinew and splinter bone. He will run beyond his heart and lung’s capacity to supply oxygen to his straining muscles. Clumsy riders have damaged valuable ponies. ponies have collapsed dead when driven too hard. Worst, Courtney de Winter resented anyone who had what she lacked.


	9. Riding at Wollstonecraft

Wollstonecraft had a fair assortment of ponies. Beth surveyed the ponies in their stalls. She saw Scamp, Red, Skins, Noblesse Oblige, Bigfoot, Comet and Bones. You just couldn’t miss the midnight black Kunte Kinte. She always smiled to see the aptly named Snake. She spotted Casanova, Wind Song, and Lucky.

One Saturday afternoon, Beth got the girls up on their ponies for a moning trail ride. Julia Michaels rode Bigfoot, Hannah Roberts on Kunte Kinte, Abbie Thwaite on Snake, Madison McLeod on Skins, Courtney de Witter on Noblesse Oblige, Ashley Sommers on Bones, Emma Ware on Scamp, Sammie Mott on Red, and Haley Ellis on Comet. Beth rode Caitlin O’Connor’s Wind Song. 

Scamp had quite a story. He fought his training desperately., Emma told her. He spit out his bit repeatedly. His trailer, Mackenzie Jones, secured it with a tongue piercing. He did not respond to his reins, spurs, or crop. He seemed to relish pain. Emma bought him for a great price. “Future cat food,” Sally warned her. Emma’s mom just had him gelded. A month passed and now he carries her smartly as pretty as you please. 

Beth led on Wing Song, a strong, long-legged pony. Julia followed on Bigfoot, Hannah on Kunte Kinte, Emma on Scamp, and Abbie on Snake. One had to marvel why he didn’t trip over that thing. Madison rode Skins, Courtney on Noblesse Oblige, Ashley on Bones, and Sammie on Red. Haley on Comet trailed. 

They rode in a line at an easy pace. Beth blew her whistle. Haley spurred her mount and Comet raced to the front of the line. Beth blew her whistle again. With a wild whoop, Sammie raced to the front and led. Her Red was bored with the mediocre pace. Emma, Ashley, Courtney, and Madison followed in turn, then Abbie, Hannah, and Julia. Now Beth trailed the pack.

At first, the day remained cool. The morning sun burned off the morning mist. The mounts ran strongly and kept the pace. Carrying a rider under the open sky was as near as they came to freedom. 

Beth trailed. She blew her whistle and jabbed Wind Song with her spurs. Her high-spirited mount whinnied his enthusiasm at the challenge and raced to the front. 

She rode side by side with Julia on Bigfoot. Bigfoot snorted his defiance. Laughing, Julia gave him his head and he rose to the challenge. He matched Wind Song step for step and pulled 

Beth went to her crop and Wind Song surged forward. Beth pulled even with Julia, then inched ahead. Now at the edge of breathlessness, Wind Song’s bare skin gleamed with sweat and spit dribbled around her bit from the corners of his mouth but he ran. Once she re-established her front position, Beth slowed them to a walk. 

All in all, a great day. The mounts came with sweaty and dirty. The stable had four grooming stands in the grooming area. The girls chatted excitedly as they waited for their turns.


	10. Disaster

“Race around the oval!” Julia challenged, riding her gelding Bigfoot. Before Courtney could answer, Julia had jabbed her mount with her heels and the big gelding was flying down the track.

For an instant, Courtney thought about protesting the whole thing as unfair. Julia had hardly given her a chance, but she knew that her mount was far superior and she might teach the upstart girl a lesson. Julia was the best student in French and that was one more reason to hate her. She set off in pursuit on the half-mile track. A crowd gathered to watch and cheer on their favorite. 

Noblesse Oblige gained steadily. Courtney went to her lash very early in the backstretch. She used it sparingly, though, just so her mount wouldn’t lose focus. She gained steadily as they came into the far turn, about three hundred yards from the finish, but then panicked. She applied the lash for all she was worth and Noblesse Oblige surged under her. He gave all that she asked, all that he could. 

Julia kept her nerve and held Bigfoot to his fast but steady pace. About one hundred yards from the finish, Noblesse Oblige pulled even and then pulled a bit ahead. Now Julia went to her lash and Bigfoot’ found some yet untapped reservoir of strength in his great heart and sprinted down the home stretch. 

Courtney tried to answer but despite his ardent desire to serve, he was exhausted. His arms and legs pumped ferociously but he seemed to move in slow motion. He crossed the finish line a body’s length behind Bigfoot and collapsed.

Courtney’s leaped clear and landed on the hard-packed cinders, abrading her hands. She tore her white jodhpurs but was otherwise unhurt. Julia continued down the track, unaware of what had happened. People gathered to see to Courtney and once assured she was all right, saw to her mount.

Noblesse Oblige writhed on the ground and moaned. Dirt stuck to his sweat covered skin and caked on the oozing bloody streaks left by Courtney’s lash. His moaning and thrashing stopped for an instant and then abruptly started again.

Beth ran onto the track with first aid kit. Wary of his size and strength, she approached the male warily. She shuddered to see the splintered end of his tibia protruding through his torn skin. He didn’t even move when she poked him with the morphine syringe.

Caitlin came out to the track. She saw briefly to Courtney, who just stood in a daze. 

Julia Michaels dismounted and walked back with her Bigfoot. “Courtney, I’m so sorry!” she said, holding back tears.

After the morphine, Noblesse Oblige quieted. Caitlin took one look at his injury and retrieved the keys from her belt. “Beth, go get my revolver. The pistol is in the right-hand drawer, bullets are in the left-hand drawer.” There wasn’t much else to be done.

Beth set off at a run. Not much had changed when she returned, except the crowd had grown. People talked quietly among themselves. Courtney stared at her mount and picked the grass and dirt from her hair.

Caitlin loaded the pistol. “Courtney, you do the honors. He’s your mount.”

“I really don’t know how,” Courtney protested. “You know, it wasn’t my fault.” Her outfit was soiled and torn beyond repair. All eyes were on her and not on her costume

“I never said it was your fault,” Caitlin answered safely. “Just flick off the safety and pull the trigger.” Caitlin deftly loaded the empty pistol. 

“I can’t!” Courtney insisted.

Caitlin shook her head and looked to Beth. “You, up for a dirty job?”

Beth nodded and took the pistol. She needed three tries at the safety. She had never done this before. She shrugged her shoulders and sighed. There’s a first time for everything, she thought. The creature needn’t suffer any more.

Caitlin squatted by the male’s head and stroked his face gently.

Beth knelt with one knee to the ground and held the pistol about a foot from the back of the male’s head. She took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger.

The pistol barked and Noblesse Oblige lay quiet. Beth stood unsteadily. She set the safety and returned the pistol to Caitlin who carefully removed the unused cartridges.

“My mother’s going to buy me a new and even better pony. I’ll just have to pass my French midterm.” Courtney bragged. “This one was really no good for anything.”

“I’m so sorry about your pony,” Julia Michaels commiserated. Julia was in Courtney’s French class. “I’ll do anything I can to help.” 

Weeks passed.


	11. Young Love

“Hey, do you think we can find a quiet corner someplace any place?” pleaded Allie in a hushed whisper. “Vickie, I want you so bad.” The crowded dormitories of the Wollstonecraft campus offered few opportunities for privacy.

“This is a stable and a stable has stalls,” answered Vickie. “Last time I was here that stall over there was empty.” The stable was dark except for the dim red light of the emergency exit signs.

“This one?” Allie asked and swung open the door. 

The stall was not empty. In the dim red light of the exit signs, a human figure could vaguely be seen. The form of a young woman knelt on hands and knees on a low table, her bottom facing the door. 

“Who is she? What is she?” Vickie asked. She touched her life-like skin. 

“A mannequin. Look she’s naked and you can see her girl parts,’ said Allie in wonder. “What’s she doing in a stable?” Allie thought to probe her gaping hole, but then thought better of it. “Her hair’s so life-like too.

“You don’t think?” asked Vickie, her imagination racing. “Let’s try another stall. I can’t believe it” 

“Try that one,” Allie suggested

“You mean the shiny one with ‘Tea Biscuit’ on the name plate? Looks new?” 

Vickie undid the latch and the door swung open revealing the massive shape of a large male, sleeping on his side.”

“Uh-oh! Now what do we do?” asked Allie uncertainly.

“Just find me a lead somewhere. There’s one hanging on a peg on the wall – over there.” Vickie knelt beside the sleeping male. Allie handed her the lead and she deftly clipped one end to his nose ring. Gripping the lead firmly in one hand, she pressed her other hand against the male’s shoulder. “Up – up – big fella!” she urged. Given the disparity in their sizes, her physical strength was inadequate to move the large creature.

However, strength of will was a different matter. Neither of the women felt the least unsettled by their close proximity to a large powerful male. His naked body and blatantly apparent male parts posed no mystery and evoked no fear. Neither doubted her mastery over the male. Rousing a stable attendant was more of a threat than the male.

Tea Biscuit, once known as Ethan, stirred and gradually awoke in the dim light. He felt a small warm hand on his broad shoulder and heard the soft but insistent female voice urging him to stand. He smelled the perfumed scents. He awoke confused and, but fundamental to his training was his need to obey. Hobbled and in harness, he scrambled clumsily to his feet.

Vickie gave him room to stand but kept her firm grip on is lead. She led him to the back of the stall. He followed passively without resistance. She looped the lead through the stay set high on wall, pulled it tight until his nose was a few centimeters from the wall and secured it. “There, big fella, that’ll keep you.” She turned her attention to Allie.

Allie sat on the thin mat, still warm from Tea Biscuit’s large body. She looked up and smiled. She had waited so long and waiting was difficult. She had already pulled off her top. “Hey, come and join me; the mat is still warm.

A hand on Tea Biscuit’s muscular ass for balance, Vickie slipped off her shoes and peeled down her tight jeans. “Do you think Tea Biscuit did anything disgusting on the mattress?

Tea Biscuit heard the sounds of their lovemaking. He tried to turn his head but the lead gave him no slack. He could see nothing. The two women, involved with her partner’s pleasure and her own, spared him no attention. Tea Biscuit could feel their arousal. He could taste their arousal. He pressed himself against the rough cinder block wall and moaned his desire.

“We’d better get out of here,” Allie offered reluctantly, quite a while later. The predawn light had burst into a brilliant dawn. She began to search for her clothes. “Did you see my shoes?”

Vickie straightened her disheveled hair, took a great deep breath, and joined the search. “Look at that!” She said and stood naked as the male. She pointed at the sizable male apparatus standing erect between his thick muscular thighs. “Did you ever wonder what he might feel like?” She shaped her hand to cup his fat ball sac but then hesitated.

Allie saw the proud Rothesay stable brand displayed on his brawny bare buttock. She peered between his powerfully built thighs. She saw the coarse hairs on his bulging ball sac. The skin of her palm itched just to look at him. “No, not really,” She wrinkled her nose with obvious distaste.

Vickie pulled back her hand. “Some people had intimate relations with these animals,” she marveled.


	12. Courtney's New Pony

“You won’t believe Courtney’s new pony!” Caitlin told Beth. “A really beauty – a stallion named Tea Biscuit.” The name was odd and intact males were rare in the stable. 

“Courtney must have passed her French midterm. Julia sure worked hard with her.” Beth answered before she remembered that she once knew someone who loved tea biscuits.

Beth passed two girls sneaking out of the stable. They gave her a big, too cheerful greeting. Beth saw their disheveled clothes and hair. “Young love,” she muttered to herself and rolled her eyes. Wollstonecraft College offered few opportunities for privacy.

She saw the new name on the shiny plaque, “Tea Biscuit.” 

Morning light flooded the stall. Tea Biscuit stared at the wall and wondered just when someone might free him. He had been standing for hours, his nose against the wall, shifting his weight from leg to leg uncomfortably. He had to pee, desperately. 

Someone opened the half door of the stall.

Beth saw the large well-built male standing face against the back wall. He was about her Ethan’s height but appeared even bulkier. His sturdy thighs, buttocks, back and shoulders appeared even more powerful. Muscle hung in thick plates on his large frame. She gave him a cheerful “Good morning, Tea Biscuit!” He must have had an uncomfortable night!

Tea Biscuit heard her voice but unable to hold back any longer, peed where he stood. The voice seemed somehow familiar. Two years had passed and much had changed. He had even begun to think of himself as Tea Biscuit and now his deeply suppressed Ethan-identity slowly rose to the surface. He sniffed the air and recognized a familiar scent – Beth’s favorite perfume. He pulled violently against the lead. He tried to turn his head but the tether had no slack. He tried to speak and only braying noises emerged.

Beth sensed the pony’s mounting agitation. His arms flailed in his security harness. His powerful legs stomped and kicked. “Easy, now. Easy, boy.” She approached him warily; he stood in a pool of urine. She sensed that physical contact might ease his disquiet. She placed her hand softly on his shoulder. “Easy, now. Easy, boy.”

He quieted immediately at her touch. He tried to press back against her hand to increase his contact. 

Beth studied the pony and ran her fingers over the well-healed script “R” brand of Rothesay Stables on his brawny buttock. Convincing herself of her control of the powerful creature, she took a deep breath and unfastened his lead. She looked at him again. His nose ring, bit and bridal distorted his facial features. “Mount,” she directed. Tea Biscuit dropped promptly to one knee. Now their heights were about the same. She studied him again. She had inspected many ponies and he was as fine a specimen as any she had seen. She put a hand on either side of his head and examined his features.

He stared back intently. 

“Hi, Ethan. Son of a bitch, long time, no see!” She marveled at the utter serendipity. “Just wait ‘til I tell Amy!” 

Tea Biscuit/ Ethan looked at Beth. Her smile hadn’t changed. Her voice hadn’t changed. He remembered the scent of her perfume.

“Hey Beth,” said Courtney, “like my new pony? Mommy bought him for me.”

“This here Tea Biscuit is an old friend of mine,” answered Beth. “He was my pony in high school. He carried me in some great races.”

“Well, Mom said he cost a pretty penny. A handful of pennies, really. I’m worried that he’s just too much pony for me.”

“I’m certain he’ll be worth the effort. Let me take him for a ride?”

Courtney had changed after the tragedy with Noblesse Oblige.

She and Beth saddled him. Beth swung into the saddle and urged him, “Up!” 

Beth’s weight was nothing compared to Ethan’s size and strength. His conditioning had been thorough and arduous. He stood excited and nearly out of control.

Beth sensed his impatience and growing agitation. She was eager too. She dragged her spurs lightly over his flanks and quickly reminded him who was the master and who her usually obedient pony. 

She set him down the track at an easy pace. She remembered their great races together. Beth stroked his cheek.

Ethan thought about his past. His attention wandered.  
Beth tapped him with her spurs and brought him into the present. She felt him respond to her lightest touch and laughed as he surged forward powerfully. Just wait ‘til I tell Amy, she thought and grinned broadly as he sprinted down the back stretch.

Much too soon, Beth brought him back to the stable. He was breathing heavily and perspiration dripped from his body but he was elated!

Alyssa attended to his grooming. He hung spread eagle on the grooming stand. His nose ring was clipped to the upright. His ankles were fastened to stays set securely in the floor. His wrists were restrained wide-spread on the cross piece. “You did good today,” she gushed as she worked. “Really good.” 

Her busy hands felt good on Ethan’s tired, sweat-streaked body. He closed his eyes but winced when she touched a wound left by Beth’s crop or spurs.

“He did really good today.” Beth’s voice. Ethan opened his eyes and pulled against his restraints. He could not see her, restrained as he was. She touched the corner of his mouth where he had drooled around his bit. She petted the back of his neck and ran her finger the full length of his spine to his tailbone. 

Ethan sighed. Beth laughed and slapped his buttock. “Take good care of him, Alyssa. He’s an old friend of mine.”


	13. College Girls

Mia, Zoey, and Ellie had been drinking, drinking heavily. Mia was driving and mostly sober as they drove down the two-lane country road. Other cars were rare. Tall trees lined the road. Fields lie on either side. A full moon offered some light.

“Ponies! I see ponies. Look!” Zoey pointed eagerly. On warm night, ponies might sleep in the field. The field was safely fenced. Harnessed and hobbled they were unlikely to get into much mischief. The respite from the close confinement of their stalls in the stable was welcome. 

“Where?” One didn’t see mature males – men – every day. Ellie turned her head and strained to look out the window. “Stop! Let’s take a look.”

Mia guided the car to a stop. The women piled out and stood at the low fence. Ellie opened the trunk. She retrieved a fresh beer for each and opened them. Zoey and Ellie used their phones as flashlights. 

“I’ve drunk enough already,” Zoey protested, laughing. She was clearly drunk and she had to pee. She took the bottle anyway and a long swallow. She belched and everyone laughed. How much had she drunk? Counting was suddenly a challenge. She had to pee desperately.

“There’s one!” Mia pointed excitedly.

There’s another.” Ellie added. 

Harnessed and hobbled, several boys slept curled up in the lush summer grass. They were glad to escape the close confines of their narrow stalls in the stable. They dwarfed the smaller women. Only the largest, strongest males were serviceable as mounts.

“Let’s get a closer look.” Zoey clambered over the fence unsteadily, beer bottle in hand. The others followed.

“Quiet!” Zoey shushed, too loudly to be a true warning.

“Look at him!” Ellie called to her friends in a hoarse whisper. The naked male was huge compared to the smaller women. His bridle held his bit in place. His harness held his wrists about twelve inches from the sturdy collar that circled his brawny neck. His ankles were hobbled. His feet were shod in hooved boots. His male parts were on naked display. One upon a time, a boy might terrorize a score of women simply by threatening to expose his male paraphernalia. That time was safely in the past. Ellie carefully placed one foot on his flank and held up her arms in triumph. She was proud of her sudden fearlessness.

The male stirred and Ellie jumped back with a yelp. She stumbled and fell awkwardly on her butt. Lady! She had pissed herself. “Help!” she called with no further concern for stealth. Mia and Zoey rushed to her aid, laughing.

The male woke and shook himself. He rose quickly to his feet. He was well accustomed to his restraints. Standing, the disparity in size was even more obvious. He towered over the cowering women. He may well have outweighed all three of them. 

The women had learned well of the male alacrity for violence. He shouted through his bit. Restrained by his hobble, he took one threatening step toward them. Ellie jumped quickly to her feet. The three fled, laughing and squealing. Hobbled, the male stumbled after them and then tumbled to the ground himself.

“Look!” Ellie stopped after a dozen steps and looked back. Zoey and Mia stopped and turned. The damned bugger had tripped on his hobble and fallen to the ground. All three laughed. He didn’t seem quite so threatening now. 

Ellie was angry. The cocksucker had made her afraid in front of her friends. She prayed the others couldn’t see that she had wet herself. She was not at all accustomed to being afraid and she did not like the feeling at all. Boldly, she approached the large male again. He was struggling back to his feet. She shoved him with her foot and he collapsed back to the ground. 

The male was writhing on the ground. The women rediscovered their courage and gathered around. “Asshole.” Ellie kicked him. Zoey kicked him again. The two looked at Mia. 

Mia looked doubtful. He had done nothing to them, really. Mia noted his restraints. She had no enthusiasm to torment a helpless creature. It seemed something a man might do.

“Stag-hag?” Zoey teased. 

“Cocksucker!” Ellie mocked.

Mia kicked him too, once and again. She was unlikely to do much damage.

Ellie had a notion. She slipped the belt from her jeans. She ignored the flailing arms and legs and threaded it through his nose ring. Despite his size and strength, the powerful male could do little to resist the painful tug on his nose. In a second, Ellie had him bent double. She looped the belt around his hobble and fastened it. She stood back hands on hips while he writhed helplessly, bent almost double. “Who’s afraid of who now?” she taunted.

“Look at that butt!” Zoey marveled. A strong ass was the necessary foundation of a useful mount. His muscular buttocks showed his well-healed brand and his thighs, the leavings of his rider’s crops in various stages of healing. Something about a well-constructed male ass still called out to a young woman.

Mia shuddered. The brand was burned into his skin. Some said that a brand calmed a male; reassured him that he was owned and valued. Science had proved that adult males don’t feel pain like women and children – irreversible testosterone poisoning but it still looked painful. 

Ellie studied his ass and looked at Zoey. Her anger and humiliation burned. “Give me your bottle,” she demanded.

“Why mine?” Zoey answered.

“Mine is still half full.” Ellie answered. She drained a half of the half. He squirmed about in his restraints. “Hope this was as good for you, boy, as it was for me,” she taunted when she had finished. He screamed into his bit.

“Let me get a picture –just your hand but not your pretty face,” Zoey instructed. 

The wranglers rang a loud bell at dawn. The boys woke and stumbled in from the field to be fed as best they were able with their hobbles. Laurie counted the boys – she was one short. She counted them again – still one short. She called Beth to help. 

Beth studied the boys at the feed trough. She saw Scamp, Red, Skins and Bones. You just couldn’t miss Kunte Kinte. She always smiled to see Snake. The boys ate their slop with such enthusiasm. She spotted Casanova, Wind Song, and Lucky. Where was Tea Biscuit?

They found Tea Biscuit lying on his side in the grass – bent double at waist. The back end of a beer bottle protruded from his muscular ass. He moaned softly and implored the wranglers with his eyes. 

Beth snorted and squatted down beside him. His flanks were marked with the healed leaving of his riders’ spurs. His buttocks bore the stable’s brand and were marked with whip marks in various stages of healing. He gasped aloud when Beth gently extracted the beer bottle. Luckily, the bottle was intact with no sharp edges. Beth carefully inspected his anus for tears before she freed him from the belt. She saw some blood but the damage hadn’t been too great. 

Finally, she freed him from the belt. He sighed, straightened, and rolled onto to his back. Beth stood and stepped away. “Enough foolishness now. Up!”

Tea Biscuit didn’t want to do much of anything just then. He looked at Beth and saw the determination on her face. He saw the well-worn prod hanging from her belt and knew that she didn’t like to repeat herself, ever. He rose unsteadily to his feet. 

Beth led him to the feed trough. Harnessed and hobbled he stumbled awkwardly after her. Sorority pranks! Likely see uploads already online, she thought. Hope they haven’t started a craze. Damn those college girls with too much time on their nicely manicured hands. Damn their damned mischief!


	14. Amy's Ride

Amy looked up uncertainly. She saw Beth already mounted on Snake. He certainly merited his name! She saw Courtney de Winter mounted on the placid gelding Lucky and Julia Michaels mounted on her gelding Big Foot. All stared her right back at her. “I’m not certain that this is a good idea. In fact, I’m very certain that this isn’t a good idea.” Amy had no love of riding. She was taller than most of the girls who rode and not all ponies could carry her comfortably. She’d hate it if Ethan – Tea Biscuit injured himself. She had only agreed to come along because Beth loved so much to ride and all agreed that she should ride Ethan or Tea biscuit as he was now called. 

Saddled and bridled, Tea Biscuit waited for her to step up on his thigh and swing into the saddle. 

Julia Michaels shook her head sadly. The poorest rider rode the best pony of the four.

Beth sat quite comfortably in her saddle and implored Amy with her eyes.

Amy saw Beth and rallied her flagging spirits. She simply had little love for the male creatures except perhaps for Beth’s Tea Biscuit. She stepped up on Tea Biscuit’s thick thigh and swung her right leg over his saddle. She settled herself awkwardly in the saddle and set her long legs in the stirrups. She grasped his reins firmly. Amy took a great deep breath. “Up!” she commanded.

Julia spurred her mount and he started forward. Courtney followed close behind. Life had changed for Courtney since the tragedy with Noblesse Oblige two years before and changed for the better. She conquered French with Julia’s help. Somehow or other, she had learned how to listen. Courtney had friends and was finally doing well in school. The years zipped by and everyone wondered where the time had gone. Soon, Amy and Beth were off to the city. Courtney would be going to graduate school. Julia juggled two job offers.

Nothing happened for a full second. She hadn't squeaked. Amy began to doubt her ability to command the large male. Then Tea Biscuit rose quickly to his full height. Amy hung on for dear life. She scrambled to regain her balance. Beth, Julia, and Courtney were heading up the trail toward the Red Lake Reservoir. 

Amy still sat there, perched in Tea Biscuit’s saddle. Beth waited for Amy. Snake, her mount seemed more impatient than she.

“Go, Tea Biscuit. Go!” Amy urged, sounding a bit frantic. Tea Biscuit just stood there. Tea Biscuit did not move. Intact males tended to be lazy, impulsive, and prone to violence. Amy’s frustration mounted. “Tea Biscuit, please.” she pleaded. “Pretty please!”

Beth sighed and shook her head. “Kick him, Amy. Just kick him. Don’t argue with him.”

Amy looked at Beth doubtfully. What if he became enraged at her. It was just her and the large, violence-prone male.

"You won't hurt him. Kick him!" Beth urged, knowing what she was thinking.

Amy kicked him but tentatively. Her rubber heels carried no spurs and Tea Biscuit barely felt them.

“Kick him, Amy. Hard!” Beth called. Amy kicked him harder and her Tea Biscuit ambled ahead. Amy struggled to keep her balance in the high saddle.

The ponies carried their burdens easily. Their male paraphernalia jiggled and flopped as they ran. Once upon a time, a male might intimidate a dozen adult women merely by threatening to expose his male paraphernalia. That time was safely in the past. An animal might be unclothed but no one thought of him as naked.

The women talked and laughed on the steep trail up to the Reservoir. Julia rode in front on Big Foot and Courtney followed her on Lucky. Amy followed on Tea Biscuit and Beth brought up the rear on Snake and kept a close eye on Amy and Tea Biscuit. 

Tea Biscuit envied Snake for his precious burden. He wanted to carry Beth, just like in the old days. Although he was Courtney’s pony, he had had many opportunities to carry Beth and sometimes, it was just like in the old days. He delighted in every flash of her smile and every touch of her hand, no matter how inadvertent. He relished every word she uttered and the mere timbre of her voice. 

Tea Biscuit kept looking back at Beth whenever Amy gave him enough slack on his reining rods. He slowed down, trying to get closer to Beth, trying to catch some whiff of her perfume. Amy was too tentative a rider to keep him strictly to task.

He felt the pressure of Amy’s thighs straddling his chest through her coarse jeans. Her weight was nothing to him despite the challenging grade of the steep trail. He felt the warmth of her body and her warm breath. He inhaledher scent.

Tea Biscuit envied Amy for her relationship with Beth. He had been totally oblivious in high school when Beth was his jockey. He had had years now to think about things in the long quiet nights in his stall. Loss of the ability to speak had not deprived him of his ability to think. He had been alone while Amy was with Beth. Tonight, they would lock him in his stall and Amy would go home with Beth.

The women dismounted. Beth removed Tea Biscuit’s saddle and Tea Biscuit was grateful for her attention. The ponies were given water and hobbled in the shade.

Julia and Courtney spread out the picnic. Beth and Amy stripped naked and swam out to the raft. 

Tea Biscuit pulled against his lead and tried to watch Beth disrobe. He may have become accustomed to being naked himself. His nudity now evoked no comment and little interest. Ponies were always naked. Once upon a time, a woman’s female parts were called her “shame.” Now a woman’s female parts were celebrated as the source of pleasure and the origin of life but still not usually so casually displayed.

Beth was fond of Tea Biscuit. She certainly had no sexual interest in the male. Her preferences were known and unambiguous. 

Tea Biscuit may have been unable to put a name on his powerful feelings. He was thrilled deeply by the soft curve of a female breast, the full ripeness of a female ass, or the secret place between two shapely thighs. His frustrated urges bordered on the desperate. Unable to speak, he moaned his desperate longing. No one paid him any attention.

Julia looked out at Beth and Amy cavorting naked on the raft. She pointed. “Yuck!” she said. “I hate public displays of affection.”

Courtney looked at the couple and smiled, a little bit embarrassed herself. Still, the day had been wonderful. Courtney was filled with gratitude for her good friends. “Julia, thank you for all the help in French.”

Amy made it back safely with Tea Biscuit’s indulgence. She had uncovered no hidden love for the equestrian sports. Amy had no hidden urge to touch the sweaty male. Although he was secured on the stand, his mere size intimidated her.

They rode back to the stable uneventfully. Tea Biscuit followed Beth on Snake, with his snake-like appendage, and more or less ignored Amy, his hapless rider. At the stable, the ponies were secured side by side on the grooming stands. Beth attended to Tea Biscuit’s grooming. 

Beth washed down Tea Biscuit vigorously. She would get to Snake later. She ran the length of Biscuit’s willy in her soapy hand and compared him with the famous Snake. 

Courtney came over. “Beth, thank you too. Thank you for all your help that terrible day,” she gushed. “I feel badly for my poor pony. Thank you for your trust and encouragement in the difficult time that followed. Thank you for Tea Biscuit. I wish I knew how to make this up to you.”


	15. Barrel Race

Tea Biscuit stood in the infield and saw the three barrels configured in an isosceles triangle. Other ponies and their riders rounded the track. THe stands were empty. He remembered other times with cheering crowds. He looked at the barrels again. Eager, he tossed his head and bit down on his bit, hard. 

Courtney stood beside him, stopwatch and clipboard in hand. A whistle hung around her neck.

Beth sat in his saddle and studied the course. Two barrels, at the base, stood about 15 yards from the starting line and 30 yards apart. The third barrel at the apex was 35 yards from either flanking barrel and about 32 yards from the starting line. She and Ethan had done this so many times before! An experienced rider, she sensed her mount’s eagerness and stroked him under the jaw. Tea Biscuit would just have to wait and he knew it. She shortened her grip on his reins and took a deep breath.

“Ready,” Courtney called. “Set.” She readied the stopwatch in her hand and lifted the whistle to her lips. 

“Go!” Beth whispered to herself at the whistle’s shrill sound. Her knees jabbed Tea Biscuit’s flanks.

He started forward at a walk. Beth guided him the right and brought him to an easy trot. Her lack of practice was obvious. She dragged him sharply to the right and they circled the first barrel counter-clockwise. Tea Biscuit ran between barrels. Beth guided him to the top of the left-hand barrel and pulled him sharply to the left. They circled the left had barrel and ran to the top barrel. Tea Biscuit rounded the barrel smartly and Beth drove him back to the starting line with her crop. They would do better the next time. She had all these admiring student watching her. 

“Time!” Courtney wrote something on her clipboard.

Beth brought Tea Biscuit to a walk and turned him back to the barrels. “Let’s do that again.” They worked around the barrels again, changing directions and speeds. Tea Biscuit ran the course at a trot. After several runs, Beth let him feel her spurs and he ran the barrels at an all-out run. They did it once and again.

Beth stroked Tea Biscuits neck. His skin was warm to the touch. She looked at Courtney. “See how easy. You do it!” She hoped she had burned off his nervous energy and he would be an obedient mount for Courtney. 

Courtney looked on uncertainly.

Beth slid from his saddle and held his reins. 

Courtney approached them with trepidation. “Mount!” she commanded. 

Beth looked at her and tried to hide her smile. The girl had squeaked!

Courtney swore that Tea Biscuit had looked to Beth before he dropped to his right knee. The damned animal was laughing her. She climbed into the saddle and ran the barrels as Beth had done or tried. Beth had mastered the pony with his reins, her spurs, and crop. Obviously, Beth was fond of the creature. She did not torment him with her spurs and crop but she left him no doubt who was master. Courtney was hesitant to inflict pain. She had no appetite for any battle of wills. She rode the powerful, spirited pony and didn’t fall off but felt more like a passenger than a rider. 

She decided. Tea Biscuit would be gelded. He was simply too much pony for her. She had no need for an unruly stallion. Any way, the license and boarding fees were discounted for geldings. 

Beth wanted to do one thing first.


	16. Marianne

Caitlin supervised. Beth and Courtney groomed Tea Biscuit with even more care than usual. Tea Biscuit was confused when Beth removed the ring that pierced the glans of his penis. Amy just watche, pleased that she needn't touch the animal.

The dummy, named Marianne by mutual agreement, looked utterly ridiculous to Beth, a plastic life-sized female on her hands and knees with her round female butt high in the air and her female parts blatantly exposed. However, her skin and hair felt real enough and the electric blanket had made her feel life warm and life-like. Caitlin slipped the sterile plastic sleeve into her always-welcoming plastic vagina and splashed her with a musky scent. 

Beth looked at the dummy and then at Amy. Amy’s anxious expression reflected Beth’s ambiguity. Beth snorted. “Don’t worry, Amy. As cute as Marianne is, you’re still my girl.”

“Did someone bring her soiled panties?” Caitlin asked.

Amy looked at Beth. Beth looked at Courtney and Courtney looked at Amy.

Beth shrugged her shoulders. “I can help,” she volunteered and disappeared into the rest room. She returned a few moments later, panties in hand.

Tea Biscuit was even more confused when Courtney slipped the panties over his head. His harness restrained his wrists. He didn’t recall that he had done anything wrong. No one seemed at all angry with him and their dreaded cattle prods hung untouched at their belts.

Courtney held the lead attached to his nose ring. Amy held his right arm and Beth held his left arm. Caitlin trailed as they led him stumbling in his hobble to the rarely used speicalstall.

“Tea Biscuit, meet Marianne,” announced Caitlin. “She’s a real stag-hag slut.” “Stag-hag” was demeaning jargon for a female who preferred sex with males.

Tea Biscuit couldn’t anything. He collided with the faux female and felt Marianne’s warm plastic skin. Something stirred inside him.

“Fuck her, Tea Biscuit fuck her good,” Courtney urged.

Tea Biscuit felt a warm hand rest softly on his flank.

“She wants you,” Beth whispered in his ear. “She really wants you – oh - so bad.”

Caitlin pressed the warm panties against Tea Biscuit’s face.

The scent filled Tea Biscuit’s head. He wanted Beth and she was so close. In his imagination, he saw her naked at the Reservoir. Beth whispered something unintelligible and her warm breath seared his face. He wanted her so desperately. He pictured the soft curve of her breasts and her tight sassy female ass. He imagined the warm, wet place hidden between her thighs. He wanted her so. In his fervid mind, she wanted him too. He was rampant. Without volition, he thrust against Marianne’s always accepting body. He slid right into her wide vaginal opening. He thrust again and again, the intense sensations erupting from his sex driving his rhythmic thrusting.

Caitlin pulled on a latex glove. She reached between his thighs and gently cupped his balls. “That’s it, fuck her good,” she implored. His breaths came in gasps and grunts. 

“Fuck her good. Oh, she wants it so bad,” Amy pleaded. Perspiration made Tea Biscuit’s naked body gleam in the soft light. His strong thighs pounded Marianne’s firm plastic ass. With his powerful assault, Marianne shook on her sturdy anchors. “Give it to her!”

Caitlin slid her index finger forward and pressed against the under side of Tea Biscuit’s cock. He groaned as if in pain and erupted. Gobs of sperm gushed into the waiting receptacle. Tea Biscuit threw himself forward onto Marianne’s back. He rested and gasped to catch his breath. Exhausted, every muscle was limp.

Caitlin wasn’t quite finished yet. She jammed two fingers up his muscular ass, plunging past his anal sphincter. Tea Biscuit groaned and tried weakly to twist away. Undeterred, Caitlin found his prostate gland and massaged it vigorously – forcing a second orgasm and a third, emptying him of sperm. He was totally spent. His fourth orgasm was totally dry and unproductive, leaving him with a dull ache in his balls. 

Beth rubbed the back of Tea Biscuit’s neck. His skin was hot and sweaty to her touch. “Do you think he’s in love with little Marianne?” she quipped brightly. “She’s such a slut.”

Tea Biscuit was crying when they pried him off Marianne and led him stumbling back to his stall.

“Good night, baby,” Beth comforted him before locking the door of the stall behind her. “I’ll bring you a biscuit tomorrow.


	17. Amy's Pride

Beth and Amy had the best seats in the house, if they only had sat down. They stood in the Owners’ Box three rows back, right at the starting line when Abby, Beth’s daughter, coaxed her nervous mount into the gate. Amy’s Pride loved to run, but the noise and tumult of race day always evoked considerable anxiety. While Beth had been Abby’s birth mother, the two women had raised her together and she called them each “Mom.” Their daughter’s accomplishments filled them both with pride. The petite Beth had been a jockey too in her younger years. She remembered her races up on Ethan, aka Tea Biscuit, her favorite mount. She guessed that in the bad old days she and Ethan might even have been sweethearts, given the crushing social pressures. He might have been the dashing captain of the football team, a sport now played only by girls, and she a preppie cheerleader. Cheerleaders still did their cheers. She still thought of him fondly, though the thought of intimate relations with a male made her queasy like some perverted fantasy of the patriarchal age.

Abby looked great up on Amy’s Pride in her red in gold silks. Her hair was tied back in a neat ponytail under her racing helmet. Amy’s Pride was a magnificent creature, saddled and bridled like all the ponies. Like all the ponies, the ring at the end of his sex was attached to his navel ring, lifting his penis from between his muscular thighs and exposing his fat scrotum underneath. His left side of his penis and scrotum were painted a deep red and the right side a brilliant gold, showing proudly the stable colors.

Neither had taken a seat when the gate fell and Abby guided her mount skillfully through the crowded field. Beth and Amy squeezed each other’s hands, when their daughter saw a sliver of daylight and spurred her mount forward. He answered her challenge with all of his considerable strength and burst ahead of the talented field. His long legs reached out forcefully and devoured the distance. Going into the first turn of the half-mile oval, he was already in the lead by a head. Abby hunched over in her saddle and urged him on. His powerful strides pounded the hard-packed track. Abby had trained him mercilessly and his arduous conditioning served him well in the backstretch.

Abby had known she wanted to be a jockey like her birth mother since Mommy Amy had given her piggyback rides as a toddler. She had hounded her brother for rides relentlessly and good-natured fellow that he is, he had usually indulged her.

A hot sun beat down on the track. The crowd roared. Amy’s Pride felt the warmth of Abby’s breath on his neck. she held his rein shortened, her crop and spurs reminded him who commanded and who obeyed, despite their easy camaraderie. The sun beat down strongly. Sweat poured from his body. She perspired too. Exertion had transmuted her usual subtly perfumed scent into something magical. He felt her fierce desire to win. Her competitive spirit was steadfast and unyielding. He knew her as thoroughly as she knew him. He desperately wanted to please her.

However, Amy’s Pride was not the only talented pony in the field. Wing Song II matched him stride for stride. The pony and his jockey carried the blue and silver of High Gate stables. His male parts were painted in blue and white stripes to match his jockey’s colors. He too was a marvelous specimen, thoroughly trained and skillfully ridden. He too had a courageous spirit and a huge desire to win. He was a champion and the son of champions. Amy’s Pride heard Wind Song II’s pounding stride and heard his heaving breaths. 

Wind Song II was also suffused with a competitive spirit. His jockey went to her crop, coming out of the final turn and Abby answered ferociously. Victory was within her reach and she would not lose it now.

Amy and Beth held hands and watched breathlessly. Their grips on each other’s hand became almost painful. Their eyes were fixed on the track.

Amy’s Pride rose to the challenge and tapped some previously unknown reservoir of strength and will. He was a magnificent creature. The other ponies were also outstanding physical specimens. He had trained hard. Abby had worked him diligently, showing him that yet more strength always remained if the spirit was willing, no matter how his lungs and body screamed in protest. The other ponies had trained hard also. However, none shared the life-long bond he shared with his jockey. Wind Song pulled even for an instant coming out of the last turn into the home stretch but Amy’s Pride surged ahead at the finish.

The crowd cheered. Arms raised in triumph; Abby guided her mount on his victory lap. Towering over the shorter Beth, Amy bent down and embraced her lover. They kissed. Their kiss and the contact of their bodies reverberated with all the love and pleasure they had shared in their long years together. Frustrated with awkwardness of their posture, Beth stepped up on a chair and for once looked down on Amy and they kissed again.

Charlotte raced down from the stands to congratulate her girlfriend Abby. Abby and her mount had already taken their hard-won place in the Winner’s Circle. Amy’s Pride knelt in the dismount position. Reporters and photographers mobbed Abby, leaving Charlotte alone with the male. He stared at the ground. His powerful chest heaved while he tried to catch his breath. His depilated skin was streaked and torn with the evidence of Abby’s quirt. 

Abby’s love of racing had always puzzled Charlotte. Abby doted so on her mount that sometimes Charlotte found herself jealous of the silly beast. His ass bore Abby’s mark indelibly. Abby had branded him herself. She had shown Charlotte the brand and told her how nervous she had been. Her hand was shaking but her mothers had insisted that she brand the creature herself. There’s a special bond, they told her, between a pony and the girl who brands him. Somewhere, she had found the strength to calm her trembling and place a clean brand.

Charlotte found his physical size intimidating though she knew that he had been thoroughly trained. Any violence against women would not be tolerated. A dangerous male would not be re-trained; rather he would be put down. Kneeling, he was still almost as tall as she. She viewed the creature ambiguously. He made Abby so happy but Charlotte found him at best hygienically challenged. Dripping as he was now with perspiration, he reeked of a distinctly unpleasant musky aroma. His bathroom habits were at best suspect. She found his blatant display of his grotesque male paraphernalia repellent. Images of him forcing himself into the hidden places of a woman’s body made her physically ill. However, she took a certain pride in her paint job.

Still, he had made Abby so obviously happy, she couldn’t help but feel a modicum of compassion. “Hey, Pride,” she smiled, “great run!” She tussled his hair fondly.

Abby saw Charlotte and broke away from the crowd. “Charlotte, we did it!” she crowed exuberantly. She and Charlotte embraced joyfully. Every touch reminded Charlotte of the pleasure they shared. Abby threw her arm around Pride’s thick muscular neck. “We did it!” She planted a quick messy kiss on the side of his face. Pride turned his head toward her, but she was already hugging and kissing Charlotte again. 

Charlotte wasn’t certain that she wanted to kiss Abby after Abby had kissed the male. However, she surrendered to the moment and kissed her friend warmly. Abby looked so hot in her racing silks. She was so vital in her triumph. The hot pressure of their bodies and the mixing of the fragrances of their scents were too thrilling for fastidiousness to prevail for long. 

“Did you bring it?” Abby asked.

Charlotte reached in her pocket and found the apple. She handed it to Abby.

The apple immediately gained Pride’s attention, despite his fatigue. He loved anything sweet after the bland diet in the stable. The apple was so red and shiny and fragrant.

The apple looked great to Abby too. She almost took a first bite but remembered her manners. She offered the apple to Charlotte who took a great bite. The sweet aromatic juices ran over her lips and chin. Next, Abby took her bite. Arm and arm, Abby and Charlotte fed Pride the remainder, careful to avoid his eager teeth. He ate greedily, consuming even the seeds and core.

Still hand in hand, Amy and Beth reached the Winner’s Circle. Hugs and kisses around, they congratulated their daughter and shared their joy with her dear friend, Charlotte. Beth grabbed Pride’s bridle in both hands and kissed him warmly on the forehead. “Great run, Pride!” she said and studied his face.

Prides’ vocal cords had been altered and he was unable to answer her with words. He answered her with his eyes. Amy and Beth had raised him together with his younger sister Abby. When he had still been able to speak, he had called them both “Mommy.” Happiness illuminated Beth’s face and gave him great joy. A large tear rolled down his cheek.

Gently, Beth brushed away his tear. She was so proud of him. Amy had been his birth mother but Beth had charted the temperatures and wielded the turkey-baster with her own hands. Beth had coaxed the sperm from Ethan, his sire. She and Amy were so proud of both their children. Suddenly, she remembered she had brought him a special treat, a tea biscuit like Ethan loved.


	18. Amy and Pride

Amy’s Pride rounded the quarter mile track with Beth in his saddle. At twenty-two years of age, he had come fully into his strength. The year before, he had won the Derby. Amy’s Pride was the pride of Beth’s stable. Though he had never seen a female’s lady parts, his stud fees supported the enterprise.

Beth had been riding since she was a teenager. Pride’s sire, Tea Biscuit, was one of her very first mounts, some thirty years before. Her jockey’s skills and pleasure at her mastery of a large, powerful animal had not diminished although she was ten pounds heavier and thirty years older. 

Amy, Beth’s wife and Pride’s birth mother, Abby, Beth’s daughter, and Charlotte, Abby’s special friend, stood bunched at the finish line. Beth and Amy had been married for years. Abby called them both ‘mother.’ 

Abby studied her stop watch and Charlotte held the clip board and pen. Amy just watched her son run with Beth, her lover of many years, hunched over in his saddle. His long, powerful strides devoured the track. Many believe that speed comes from the number of strides per second. In truth, a the length of each stride is as important, propelling mount and his rider strongly forward

They reached the three-quarters pole and Beth went to her crop. Amy winced vicariously with the first touch of her lash but Pride, well trained to answer his rider’s crop and spurs, simply surged forward, drawing on some inexhaustible reservoir of energy, and exploded past the finish lane.

“Not bad,” offered Abby, reading the stop watch. Charlotte recorded the time. Beth let Pride slow to a walk and circled the track once again at a lazy pace.

“Wish I could have seen his sire, Tea Biscuit, run. I’ve only seen some JPEGs,” Abby said, watching Pride and her mother circling the track at an easy pace. “Mom still talks about him.”

Amy remembered the old bugger with both fondness and a touch of ambivalence. Beth seemed to dote on him so and once she had been so outrageously jealous. She snorted aloud and shook her head at her youthful silliness.

“Did you ever ride him?” Charlotte asked and looked at Amy quizzically. “Abby is always trying to get me up on a pony.”

Amy thought back to the day a long time ago and smiled. “Once, we rode up to Red Lake Reservoir.” She remembered the day exactly. She rode Tea Biscuit. They had had to lower his stirrups to accommodate her long legs. 

Beth rode Snake. She laughed to remember his ridiculous appendage. Alyssa Westfold, Caitlin O’Connor’s successor as Wollstonecraft chief trainer, had kept it. Rather than mount it erect in its arrogant glory, it lay coiled on her desk like some one-eyed python. 

Courtney de Witter rode Lucky and Julia Michaels rode Big Foot- right. How could she forget? She had been frightened out of her mind. The others had stared so at her – fearing she would fall or even hoping. Tea Biscuit was a reliable mount and he always took good care of his rider, no matter how inexperienced she might be.

“Hey, how’d you like to ride Pride. He’s a great mount?” Abby asked, seeing the nostalgic gleam in her other mother’s eyes. Amy was too large to be a jockey but Pride was a strong mount and could carry her easily for a time.

Amy watched Beth and Pride. She wavered.

Beth rounded the track once more with Pride at an easy jog. Her ride had been exhilarating. Pride was the product of ten years of training and a true champion. She looked up and saw Amy waving at her. Beth felt a rush of affection for her most significant other. She pulled back on the reins and brought Pride to a gradual halt.

“Mount!” 

Pride went down on one knee promptly. Beth slipped out of the saddle but kept a firm grip on Pride’s bridle. 

His vision restricted by his blinders, Pride turned his head as far as the check reins allowed to see his birth mother, Amy. The tongue port on his bit pressed down on his tongue and prevented speech.

“Great ride, Pride!” Beth gushed and kissed him on the forehead. 

“Well, this is your chance, Amy. Your boy is ready and willing,” Charlotte offered.

“Well, this is your chance too, Charlotte,” Amy retorted. She felt so awkward and ungainly in the saddle with other people watching? Beth and Abby were so graceful! Let Charlotte ride herself.

At once, Charlotte regretted saying anything. “Sorry, not today.” With each refusal, she knew that she was one step closer to riding a pony.

“Why not today, Lottie?” Abby persisted. Amy and Beth looked at her. Even Pride turned his head as far as his check reins allowed. His blinkers severely limited his field of vision.

Charlotte knew they had her. She shook her head doubtfully but said, “Yes, okay, I guess.”

“You’ll like it!” said Abby encouragingly. She held Pride’s bridle in her fist. 

Pride held his mount position. Kneeling, he was almost as tall as Abby who stood him and stroked his cheek and neck. “Okay, Charlotte, up in the saddle. Put your left foot on his left thigh and hold the pommel – not the bridle, and swing your right leg over.”

“Sounds so easy,” Charlotte sighed. She grasp the pommel in her left hand and stepped up on Pride’s brawny thigh. Here goes nothing, she thought to herself and swung her right leg over and settled in herself in his saddle. It was easier than she had feared. 

Abby deftly adjusted the stirrups. Charlotte planted her feet and picked up the reins. 

Abby took a step back. They were all staring at her. Charlotte was unsure what was next. 

“Pride, up!” Charlotte said and Pride rose powerfully to his feet. Everyone was smiling and it felt just right. 

Once around the track and Abby and Charlotte led Pride back to the stable.

Beth and Amy watched them fondly. “Remind you of us?” Amy asked.

Beth nodded her agreement.

Abby Took Pride to his knees and secured his nose ring to the grooming stand. Kneeling, he could neither kick nor bolt. She had no concerns about any misbehavior on his part but her mothers had taught that there’s a right way and a wrong way to do most anything. She should always pick the right way.

Abby removed his saddle, bit, and bridle. Pride grunted his relief at the bit’s removal but knew enough not to attempt speech. She freed one wrist from his harness. Pride lifted it to the cross piece and she secured it. She then she secured his other wrist and urged him to his feet in order to better wash his lower body and legs. She secured his ankles to stays set securely in the floor. 

Abby’s hands went everywhere. She squished his boy parts in her soapy hands. Charlotte marveled at her alacrity. 

They dried him roughly and replaced his harness and hobble. Abby clipped a lead to his nose ring. They brought him hobbled to his stall and settled him for the night.

Pride lay in his stall and listened to the breathing of the other mounts in the other stalls.

Like his sire, Amy’s Pride had grown up in a house filled with racing paraphernalia. When he was small, he had carried Abby, his baby sister on his back, strapped onto a training saddle. A bit older, and he had pulled her and her little friends in a wagon. His mothers had introduced him to the grooming stand. 

Where Tea Biscuit had started serious training at sixteen, he started in the fall when he was thirteen. Pride was sent away and did not see his family for 5 long years. He rode to Rothesay stables clothed in the backseat of a car. Abby had cried at his departure. Ultimately, he had come home in a pony trailer, naked except for his tack.

He was a pony, he learned, not a person. A pony rides in a pony trailer, not in the backseat of a car. A pony wears no clothes. He runs naked except for his tack. A pony doesn’t speak though he might whinny, whimper, or click his tongue. He sleeps in a stall, not in a room; on straw and not on a bed. He has only a coarse blanket for warmth. He may look in vain for some sort of slop bucket but he is to urinate and defecate in the straw. He spends long hours alone in his stall. 

The older mounts carried their riders with power and pride and he envied them.

He had learned to obey. He learned his positions and his gaits. They drilled him endlessly. At first, he had obeyed eagerly because he wanted to obey. When his responses were slow or sloppy, he felt the lash. The drills continued. Gradually, he learned to obey only because it was required of him. His desires mattered for nothing at all His body obeyed before his conscious mind had fully processed the command. 

He had no love for the lash but quickly found that he feared his trainer’s disapproval more than he feared her lash. He was well accustomed to the grooming stand. He stood restrained and spread-eagle while a groom cleaned him like an infant. However, he well used to being touched and readily came to relish soothing hands on his tired body. 

Most challenging was the loneliness and isolation in the stable. He might have two grueling 2-hour workouts a day and a lazy hour in the paddock at midday but he spent long hours alone in his stall. His world gradually shrank to the world of the stable and the conflicts and comradery among the ponies – the bland geldings and the ill-tempered stallions. 

As his human consciousness gradually faded, he came to treasure every human contact as a respite from his abject loneliness.His riders often spoke to him as they rode. He quickly read their moods but their words and references meant less and less to him. 

His strength and endurance increased along with his size. At the end of the second year, he earned his nose ring. That made him different from the new boys who arrived at the stable. He was fitted for his first harness. He and the other boys were trained to pull wagons in teams. Half the boys disappeared at the end of the first year and half again at the end of the second year. He and the other boys carried weighted saddles or pulled carts and looked in awe at the older boys who carried riders. 

Ponies didn’t speak. He had forgotten once and talked back to an exercise girl. Honestly shocked, she had slapped him and the next day, they fitted him for a bit and bridle. The shank of the bit pressed down on his tongue and more or less prevented speech until he had undergone the surgery. 

In the summers, he saw his sister Abby up on other mounts. She was petite like her mother Beth but wasn’t so little anymore. She began with the gentlest geldings. With experience and as she proved herself, she moved up to more spirited males. Many novice riders feared the whip more than their mounts feared it. Abby used the whip to reinforce her authority with no reluctance. No one ever doubted who commanded and who obeyed. Beth had taught her that strictness was truly a kindness. A correction half-heartedly applied need be repeated too often and too soon. She always stopped by to say hello and often brought him a treat.

Like his sire, he had had his major growth spurt at sixteen. At sixteen he carried Abby, then thirteen, in his saddle and learned to respond to her firm hand on his reins and the touch of her crop and spurs. He knew at once that he had been born for this. He wasn’t yet as large or strong yet as her other mounts yet but he could carry her ably for some distance. As much as his workouts under the eye and lash of the exercise girls and his time on the grooming stand mitigated his deep loneliness, a rider in his saddle seemed a fulfillment rather than an imposition. He cherished her nearness, her warm breath on his neck, her pleasant, if meaningless, chatter as he carried her and the fragrance of her scent. 

Though his bond with Abby was special, he owed obedience to whoever held his reins. In time, his responses to her and the other riders’ direction became unthinking and automatic. His body responded before his conscious mind had fully processed an instruction.

Hoping to please, he doubled his effort in his workouts. He feared disapproval more than he feared the lash and treasured every smile, every kind word of approval. At night, when all was quiet, he dreamed running with a rider in his saddle.

Abby had come to see him one day with three of her annoying friends. She was truly proud of him and eager for him to come into his full strength. 

He found all her friends irritating. He was somehow jealous of the time she spent with her friends instead of him. Isolated in his stall, he had no real friends. He mingled with the other ponies in the paddock but unable to speak, they had very limited interactions.

He exercised his pony’s privilege. A pony might pee anywhere. He tried to pee on Abby and her friend. His wrists were restrained by his harness and he could not aim the stream but his efforts sent the girls shrieking and scrambling away. Hobbled, he chased after them as best he could. He could not run and urinate at the same time. 

Abby was not amused. She deftly clipped lead to his nose ring. She and her friend Beatrice dragged him to a grooming stand in the corner of the paddock. Despite his strength and much larger size, he could not resist the painful pull on his nose. They clipped his lead to the stand and reeled him in until his nose touched the upright. She freed one wrist from his harness and lifted his wrist to the cross piece.

He ripped his arm from her grasp and flailed away. Abby jumped back. He was humiliating her in front of her friends. She felt real anger. 

He stood, still hobbled and secured to the grooming stand. He thrashed his free arm around and for a few precious minutes felt quite triumphant. Then Abby returned with the whip, not her rider’s crop but the whip.

“This won’t be pretty,” she warned her friend. “Remember, they don’t feel pain like we do.”

He suffered the worst beating of his life. In the end, Abby’s whip arm ached and he lifted his wrist to the cross piece himself. He did not resist when she secured his other wrist. She clipped one leg is a stay set in the ground and freed him from his hobble. Angrily he kicked at her weakly and ineffectively in one last show of defiance.

She stepped back and retrieved the whip. She delivered five more strokes. She kicked his free leg out and secured it to its stay. He now hung helpless and spread eagle on the grooming stand.

Only now, she went for help. She told Mackenzie, a trainer, what Pride had done. Mackenzie chuckled but told Abby that she had responded perfectly but agreed that now was the time. 

He hung helpless on the grooming stand. Mackenzie strapped a collar around his scrotum above his testicles. He screamed when she pierced the glans of his penis below his urethra and placed a ring. “Ice him tonight,” she chuckled.

The swelling went down over several days. They secured the end of his penis to a ring on the collar. When he peed urine streamed backwards between his muscular thighs as it did with the other ponies.

The grooms washed him thoroughly on the grooming stand. No part of him escaped their thorough attention. His body responded as might be expected from a young man and that was unexceptional in the stable. Once upon a time, a man might intimidate a score of adult women by threatening to expose his male paraphernalia. That time was safely in the past. Several of the grooms took a certain perverse pleasure in their ability to bring him quickly to the edge of orgasm and occasionally beyond. The grooming frame groaned but his restraints held him secure.

Memories of his life before that stable slowly faded. He had no smart phone or tablet. He had no music. He had nothing to read but he had never really learned to read anyway. He had had no other life. He overheard the grooms and exercise girls chat but their references to the outside world and even their words meant less and less to him over time –unless their words were directed at him specifically. His stall became his home – a lonely place to rest after a hard day under saddle. Amy’s Pride slept.

“Pride!” Amy called, looking down on her son lying in the straw in his stall. She was so much taller than Beth or Abby. She had given him her long legs and mitochondria. It was dark and no one was around.

Pride opened his eyes and hobbled, he stumbled to his feet. 

She took his bit and bridle from its hook. Pride opened his mouth to accept his bit. She led him to the grooming rack and attached the lead to his nose ring. Amy mounted the saddle on his strong back and secured the straps and buckles. Her clumsiness betrayed her lack of experience. She lengthened the stirrup straps to accommodate her long legs. 

“Kneel,” she commanded.

Pride knelt and she freed him of his hobble. Amy stood substantially taller than Beth or Abby.

“Mount!” She stepped up on his muscular left thigh and awkwardly threw her long right leg over and sat herself in his saddle. She planted her feet firmly in the stirrups and took his reins in hand. She freed his nose ring. “Up!”

Pride stood. Though Amy was heavier than Abby or Beth, Pride found little difficulty. She urged him forward and guided him from the stable, out onto the quarter mile track.

No one was around and the lights were off. The moon gave some welcome light. Still, Amy felt awkward and ungainly. In the dark, at least, no one would see her.

They just walked first lap. At the start of the second lap, she snapped her heels against his flanks to urge more speed.

Pride was more familiar to the sharp bite of his rider’s spurred heels. He had no desire but to please but he did not recognize her feeble signal at first.

“Come on! Giddy-up,” she urged and kicked him again.

Now Pride understood and surged forward. Amy held on for dear life. Unlike Abby, Beth, or a more experienced rider who shifted her weight and moved with him, Amy flopped around on his back like a sack of potatoes. She held on desperately but whooped in glee, exhilarated by speed and marveling that she had given birth to this magnificent creature. They took a third lap at a full run, and Amy slowed him to walk a fourth lap. 

She rode him back to the stable. “Mount!” She slid from his saddle. “Kneel!” She reattached his hobble and removed his saddle, then snapped a lead to his nose ring and freed him from his bit and bridle. Pride caught his breath as she led him back to his stall. She hung his bit and bridle on its hook on the wall, then helped him settle in the clean straw and covered him with a coarse blanket.

“Night, night, Pride,” she whispered. Thanks for the ride.” She tossled his hair and kissed his cheek.

Pride lifted his tired head. He opened his mouth to say something in return but then thought better of it. Ponies didn’t speak. He just smiled in return.


End file.
